Curse
by Cookie Seller On The Dark Side
Summary: Rose Weasley. Scorpius Malfoy. Rose is cursed, miserable, and about to disappear. Scorpius is confused, worried, and about to fall in love with the girl he once hated. (Short story. Probably will only be around six chapters)
1. My curse

I wonder whether you should know your future.

The day you die.

I don't think you should. You'd only desperately try to stop it-

And fail.

I've read multiple books where the main character is life-threateningly ill, but something always stops it from happening. Always. Love so strong it beat the illness. Courage so overcoming it destroyed the sickness. A new cure.

But all of that only happens in a fairy tale.

I wish I was in a fairy tale. The kind witch, whizzed away by a brave prince, saved by a good wizard.

If I was in the world of make believe, then maybe my curse would be removed.

* * *

Dad and Mum say I don't have to go back to Hogwarts. I want to, though. To pretend this isn't happening. To have pride in my Head-Girlship. To say 'bye' to my friends. So now I say 'bye' to my parents.

They both cry, of course. This might be the last time they see me.

Maybe.

They don't know why I never cry.

I don't know, either. Maybe the curse is getting to me.

I see my friends, Emily Longbottom and Jayni Bozoar.

"Hey!" They greet me cheerfully. They don't know, I realize, of course they don't.

"Hi," I whisper gloomily.

"What's wrong, Rosie?" Asks Emily, the epitome of worry.

"Are you OK?" Says Jayni.

"Yes," I answer in the same near-silent voice. I decide to switch the subject. "How were your summers?"

This sets them off immediately.

* * *

I have to leave them when the train appears. To the prefect compartment, for some sort of pep talk.

I don't know who's the Head Boy. I hope he's nice. (Nobody's 'nice' in this age, though. No boy, anyway.) I hope he won't pry at me, I don't want to tell anyone of my curse. I don't even think the Potter kids know.

"Hello, Rose."

James Sirius Potter. I suppose he's a prefect.

"Hi, James." I say quietly, purposely looking anywhere but his face.

"What's up, Rosie?" He says, squinting at me. "You don't _look_ sick..."

"I'm not sick," I murmur.

"Then what's wrong?" James says. "Was it Malfoy? If it was, I'll sk-"

"No, Potter." A silky, sarcastic voice interrupts. "I'd say Weasley is just pondering what she's doing here... can't be for her smarts, though, can it?"

"Malfoy," James growls.

"Well," Scorpius Malfoy continues. "You certainly get in here for your intelligence, either, _Potter_."

James snarls.

"Enough," I say in a monotone.

Scorpius turns to face me. "What's wrong, Weasel?" He sneers. "Trying to hide behind your oaf of a cousin?"

"No." I say. "I'm trying to remind him the ferret isn't worth it."

And I walk away, but not before I notice a silver glint on his robes.

A badge to pair with my own.

A Head Boy's badge.

* * *

Professor McGonagall comes in soon after the arguement. She knows about my curse, so I ask politely to be excused.

She eyes me sympathetically. Pity is almost never shown in this teacher's eyes. I suppose I'm a rather sad piece of work at the moment. "Of course, Rose." She never calls a student by his or her first name.

So I prepare to slip away. But, before I do, something inexplicably odd occurs.

I feel a hand on my shoulder. It's Malfoy.

His head is cocked in confusion. His grey eyes clouded with confusion. "Weasley," he mutters. "What's going on?"

I shake my head, and shrug him off, vanishing out the door.

Scorpius Malfoy showing anxiety? Unheard of.

* * *

I don't go back to Jayni and Emily. Instead, I cowardly hide in the girl's bathroom.

Myrtle Jr.

Ugh.

Just call out the Basilisk, it would really just make this day perfect.

I pull out my book. It's sweet. The norm: love, adventure, justice.

Maybe I shouldn't read this. It's too happy. I'll just get my apathetic hopes up.

Part of me considers hunting for the sweets trolley. I could be seen, though, compartment-less, depressed and alone.

So I don't.

* * *

I feel lonely. I should probably leave, but the thought of a line of desperate girls waiting to go to the toilet scares me.

I may have been in here for an hour, now.

I sit on my trunk. It's small and only half packed. I'll only be here a while, anyhow.

A messgae booms through the speakers. A reminder to get into our uniforms. I strip off and pull on my robes.

Suddenly I hear banging on the door of the bathroom. My fear of a line of impatient girls slaps me in the face again.

"Weasley," calls a muffled voice. "Open up, you idiot."

I let the latch of the door click free. Let the knocker see me. The hapless, wretched pile of robes on the white-tiled floor. Let them see my tear-stained face. Let them- NO! DON'T LET THEM!

I struggle to lock the door again, but do not succeed.

Scorpius Malfoy glowers down at me, like I just smacked him or something. Well, technically I did. With a door.

"What was that for, Weasley?"

I don't answer. I glance longingly at the cauldron cakes at chocolate frogs tucked beneath his arm.

He follows my gaze, and a flicker of a smile enters his face. He has never smiled at me before, I think to myself, but it is nice. (I hate that little word). "You can take them," he says gruffly, dropping them by my feet.

I stare.

He stares back.

Malfoy turns to leave, but I grab the tail of his black robes. He looks back.

"Thank you," I mumble.

I see something. An emotion fluttering in his eyes.

I can't identify it.

* * *

I watch the first years as they're sorted.

It's cute, the frightened expressions on their faces. _"A mind reading hat?"_ I contemplate what they are fearful about. Stealing from the cookie jar? The sorting hat won't sell them out.

That was me, some few years ago.

"_Ravenclaw or Gryffindor?"_ The hat had asked.

_"I'm brave!"_ I'd cried out proudly.

The hat had chuckled. _"Yes, Miss Weasley, you are._"

I don't believe he'd think that now.

* * *

The Gryffindor prefects and I show the first years back to the common room. One boy attempts to climb up the Girl's stairs, and is shocked when the staircase turns into a bright red slide, and he topples down. His house mates laugh at his misfortune.

"It's okay," I say to him. "They'll forget it as soon as someone gets pranked by my cousins, Fred and James. Don't worry over it."

He, still blushing furiously, grins. He grumbles something incoherent.

"Pardon?"

"Do you think they'd let me help?"

I nod, smiling.

His beam widens, he starts towards his dorm, when I call up to him. "Hey, what's your name?"

He glimpses back. "Donny Brown!"

My eyes morph into saucers. "As in _Lavender_ Brown's son?" I recall mum's moaning about the irritating, beautiful, vain Lavender Brown.

"Yep!" He says zealously, disappearing up the boy's stairs.

I smile. I suppose you can't judge people by their parents.

* * *

I fall into the shadows as I stroll up the the Heads' common room. I tell the arrogant portrait the password -Scorose- and climb in.

I marvel at the green, silver, red and gold room. The floor is a bright red, the walls a tranquil green. The chandelier is silver, with golden jewels hanging off of it. One arm-chair is dark green, the other light red. The sofas are white.

The brown fireplace is burning. The blazing heat is welcomed by yours truly. I sink down into the white couch, and close my eyes tight.

* * *

_When you dream, it's like you're free...  
_

_Like the problems cease to exist..._

_Life goes on for ever, when you dream..._

_Nothing ties you down..._

_You can be happy..._

_Then you wake up_.

* * *

A soft _'boom_' tugs me into conscience. I open a lazy blue eye.

The colorless silhouette swept across the room. I saw no more: I was asleep once more.

* * *

When I open my eyes at sunrise, there's a light green blanket over me.

* * *

Because of my curse, I've decided to become a noncommiting person. I tell Sasha Wood that I can't play keeper anymore. She doesn't understand. I shouldn't of expected her to, though.

"But why, Rose?" She bellowed. "This year is OUR year! The year Gryffindor has a party and puts the big, BEAUTIFUL quidditch cup in the common room!"

I take a wary step back. Sasha is scaring me. "I'm sorry," I say, though I don't mean it. I truly don't know what I've done to deserve this.

"No you're not!" Sasha says hotly, tripping over a Lightspeed 300.

"You're right," I confess. "Look, Sasha. I've got some medical problems-" curse "- at the moment, and I can't lay, OK? Sorry."

Then I go back to the Great Hall. If Sasha wasn't cursing to herself and punching the wall, maybe she would've noticed that I actually wasn't rubbing my eyes from lack of sleep.


	2. Guess what

I close my eyes- and it comes back again.

It happened a few years ago. I was about five. Dressed in a pink frilly dress, messing around with 'Mister Teddy', and thoroughly ejoying my birthday, I was in the Burrow.

They came.

Skull masks, black robes. My parents rose their wands in offense, and my dad pushed me behind him. Hugo was up in his room- unaware of the horror below him.

There was a duel. Six VS Two. I was no help. I stared in befuddlement.

What was happening?

What happened next became a blur of green. Two spells, one red, one Slytherin green, flew towards me. I deflected neither. The two spells mingled and hit me as one.

I became paler, near-invisible wrinkles formed. Mum and dad rushed me to the hospital, _St Mungo's_ Hospital for Magical Maladies and Injuries.

I remember sitting in the waiting room, waiting for the results. I remember pressing my ear to the door, perplexed as I listened to jumbled up rambling.

_Die. Maybe. Few years. Both Avada Kevadra and Sectumsempra. _

Then they came out. Mum, clinging onto a packet of tissuesk and sniffing. Dad, his comforting smile wobbling and his body shaking.

Then they told me my curse.

* * *

I bolt straight up into sitting position, clutching my covers in terror.

I try to stop myself panicking. _It's just a dream, it's just a dream, it's just a dream..._

But then I realize...

It's not.

And I scream.

I hear a 'BOOM!' from nextdoor. Malfoy must've fallen out of bed. A few seconds later he's whamming at my door with his fists. I've locked it, though. He can't get in.

"Rose! ROSE! Good Merlin, open the stupid door!" He bellows. He must think I've been attacked, or something.

I can't get up. I'm breathing heavily. I feel my own sapphire eyes going wide and feral.

**"_ROSE!_"**

I can't tell if it's Malfoy screaming, or my memories.

I hide under the covers.

_Soon. Soon it will be over._

* * *

I can't sleep.

There is no point, really.

I'll have enough time to sleep later.

I remember what my dad told me about horcruxes. _We found one in the room of requirement..._ It sounds facinating. I decide to go Room-hunting.

Dad and Uncle Harry have a map, called the Maraurders' Map. They upgraded it a few years ago. It goes around the Weasley/Potter clan. It's my go now.

I tap the map with my wand: "_I solemnly swear that I am up to no good."_ The brown ink run together and forms the words The Marauder's Map.

I grin wickedly.

* * *

The room takes a while to find. Holding the map upside down for most of the journey didn't help much, either.

I sat in the room, then. It morphed into a cosy sitting room, with a puffy, plush red armchair, beautiful amber floral rugs, and a blazing fire.

I watch the fire, and am reminded of a myth. There was once a baby boy. The fates appeared with his life, and, in fron tof the boy's mother, threw it into the flames of the fire. The mother knew her child was about to die, so she dived forth and saved her son's life. Later on, the boy grew into a man. He, with some male family and friends, went hunting. A woman he fell in love with helped. He gave the hunted creature that they had killed's fur to the woman, and his uncle was furious. He attacked, and the boy killed his uncle. Tthe boy's mother, in her anger and grief, took her son's life and through it back into the fire. She murdered her own son instantly.

I glare holes in one log in the fire, imagining it's my life.

My ears twitch. Smeone has entered the room of requirement.

"Rose," sighs the person. He? She? walks over and sits on a armchair that has appeared next to my own.

"Malfoy?" I ask, puzzled.

"The one and only," he says, smirking. The smirk dissolves, and a thin line is on his face. He looks perturbed. "What's up with you? You haven't snapped at me at all!"

I look down. "I snap at you?"

His face softens. "No- yes! Gah!" He rakes his face with his hands, glowering at me. "Stop that!"

"Stop what?" I say tacitly.

"Confusing me!"

If this was a cartoon, Scorpius would have lightning bolts coming out of his head, and a question mark would spring from my own.

"With what?" I question wearily.

He waves his hands wildly. "With... with all this!"

"All of what, Malfoy?" I say. I can't bring myself to say his name. He hated me. I hated him. It was so simple. So why must he act so kind?

He lets his hands fall to his side. "I don't know." He says in a whisper.

I look into his flummoxed grey eyes. "Why are you doing this?"

"Doing what?" He says, looking up at me.

"Acting so... not-mean!"

He looks mystified. "You think I'm mean?"

"Yes- no!" I make a 'gurr' noise out of frustration. "You hate me!" I blurt out.

"I don't hate you," he disagrees.

"Yes you do!" I cry out.

"No I don't." He replies.

"Yes you do!"

"No. I. _Don't_." Malfoy hisses. His eyes bore into mine. His disbelieving, mine firy. "Rose, I don't know _why_ you'd think I hate you- because I don't. You hate _me_."

"No I don't!" I yelp, like a picked on little kid.

"Yes you do," he says chastisingly. "You always have."

"No way!" I argue. "I never hated you! You always just insulted me, and I threw them back at you!"

"No!" He says. "It is definitely VICE VERSA!"

"It is not!"

"Is too!" He says childishly.

We both stop to breath.

"Well," I start, doubtfully. "If I never hated you, and you never hated me... does that mean we could've been friends?"

He freezed, then nods slowly. "I s'ppose so..."

I, albeit nervously, stick my hand out. "Friends?"

He shakes on it. "Friends. But you have to call me Scorpius."

"Same with me. But replace 'Scorpius' with 'Rose'."

The weirdest thing happens next.

"Scorpius," I whisper afterwards. "Do friends do that?"

I bet you can guess what happened.


	3. Alone

Falling always hurts. Sometimes there is someone to help you up again, sometimes there is no one.

I guess that's why they call it 'falling in love'. It hurts, but you can get up again.

I haven't been in pain, so maybe I haven't fallen in love. Or maybe I already did, and am only realizing so now. It's crazy. This story is going too fast. He only just apologized!

Meh, I tell myself, who cares?

It'll be over before I'll find out.

* * *

When I walk into the Great Hall with Scorpius beside me for breakfast, all chatter stops. The place is thronged. Gryffindors, Slytherins, Ravenclaws and Hufflepuffs enjoying their first meal of the day. Every eye, from blue to brown to green to grey, fixes itself on us.

"_A Malfoy and a Weasley?"_

_"No way!_

_"Rosie, get away from the git!"_

_"Woahhhh~!"_

_"Her dad won't like this!"_

_"His dad won't like this_!"

I go red, and Scorpius pales.

"My dad will KILL me," he says under her breath, but seems to push the thought away, and smiles at me. "Gryffindor is glaring at you. All of them."

"Forget your dad, if my family catches me I'll be skinned alive!" I mutter back, but I'm still grinning.

"Too late," he replies, smling slightly.

"ROOOOO-SEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEE!" Yells James, sitting up so fast that he knocks over the table he's sitting at. The food falls all over Lily, Albus, Lorcan and Hugo. They all shriek as the porridge bowl oozes over their robes.

James' eyes are blazing, his black hair, dark robes, and ferocious expression cause him to look rather threatening.

I gulp. "Hello James."

"That's the best you've got?" Scorpius complains from beside me. "Punch me!" He hiss at me, pulling at my sleeve desperately.

"_What?"_ I screech.

"Just do it," he yaps. "Your cousin won't attack me if you already have!"

I gulp. It's not that I _can't_ punch- it's worse. I really _can_- and I certainly don't want to fight him, even if it's just pretend.

He sees my hesitation, and his eyes have gone from fearful to begging. James has climbed over the bench, and is slowly advancing towards us.

"The teachers," I put in weakly.

"Now!"

Afterwards, all I can remember is a stinging pain on my palm, and a girlish shriek as Scorpius' cheek goes red.

"Ugh," he groans, sinking to his knees. "I said to punch me, not smack me.."

Funny thing is, I always have wanted to do that.

* * *

I spend the night writing letters to my friends.

"Goodbye," I write multiple times. "I'm sorry," I have to scratch out.

It's not my fault. But I still write it again.

I only manage to half-do one.

_"Dear Emily and Jayni,_

_Goodbye. I'm sorry."_

* * *

When I get up, Jayni and Emily are ignoring me.

I don't know why.

They turn their backs on me -literally- and have not spoken a word to me aallllllllllllllll day long.

"Emmie?" I greet. "Jay-jay?"

"What?" Emily snaps.

I flinch back. "S-sorry?"

"Humph," Jayni grunts disapprovingly.

"What's wrong, guys?" I ask.

"Apparently us." They say in sync.

"Wh-what?" I say, blinking confusedly.

"The letter," Emily says quietly, before stalking off, Jayni swiftly following.

The letter? The one that I didn't finish?

Something tells me they didn't understand my meaning.

* * *

They ignore me, never ceasing to throw the cold shoulder at me. I nearly cry when they invite Quinta Zabini to sit at their -_our_- three-seat table.

I find myself back at the room of requirement. A warm, brown drink appears on the coffee table. I sip it tentatively. It tastes like chocolate. Hot chocolate. Uncle Harry mentioned that his godfather said Lily Evans was a fan of it.

"Back again?" A voice questions. "Saw your 'friends' were pretending you didn't exist."

"There was a misunderstanding," I say, faking a smile. My lips quiver, the smile wobbles and then drops.

"No it wasn't," Scorpius says. "They were being stupid."

"Shut up," I grumble, throwing a cushon at him. I take another one and burrow my head into it.

"It's the truth," he shrugs. "You need better friends."

"No!" I snap. "Shut up!" I repeat.

"Why," he says, raising an eyebrow.

"_Ugh_," I grouse, frustrated. "You wouldn't _understand_!"

"Understand what?" He shouts.

But I can't tell him. I cuddle my cushon to my chest, and sob pathetically. Now I can say I cried, I think to myself. Cried properly.

I wonder why I can't tell him.

I love him. I think. He loves me. I think. Maybe that's why..

I always think, but never know.

I imagine his eyes from beneath the pillow. Are those pale grey orbs bright and twinkling, or have they gone dark. Has my fear consumed the happy glint in his eyes? Have those colorless, mystifying plates gone void of emotion? Or have they perhaps been filled with offense. Maybe he distrusts me now. I don't think I fully trust him, not yet. Maybe, if my curse doesn't get to me first, I'll tell him about it. Maybe.

When I look up, he's gone.

Thoughtfully, I collect a single tear from my leaking eyes. I stare at it. Looking closely, I can see a shining glimmer on it. It's translucent. Something about it is magical. The tear of a cursed witch. Another one races down my face. I trace the trickle with my right index finger.

I contemplate whether I could sell it. For a Potion Master, or something. I wonder the title.

"The tear of A heart-broken Witch, who, unfortunately, was also cursed". It depresses me.

But only because it is so true.

I stare back into the flames. The blazing material I compared to my life yesterday is long since burned up.

I look into the mirror above a dresser to the corner. Wrinkles rest under my eyes, more obvious then before, and my skin is nearly white. My hair flops lifelessly to my back.

"It's nearly over," I whisper to myself, cuddling myself. "I'm almost... _dead."_


End file.
